


Fly

by strawberrycupcake_huckleberrypie



Series: North Star [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha AF, Cops need love too, Daddy Kink, Dating, F/M, For a Friend, I'm a sucker for my readers, Interstellar Transmissions OC "Gun", Love Story, Marine Corps, Notting Hill, Rogun, The North Shore, True Love, USMC Marines, true north
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-26 21:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14410476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrycupcake_huckleberrypie/pseuds/strawberrycupcake_huckleberrypie
Summary: "Could I maybe buy you a drink sometime?" he asked, adding before she could refuse, " to thank you for...for that?"She took a step towards him and surveyed him. She looked up at his eyes, read his name on his badge, eyed his gun in his holster, scanned his tattoo on his right forearm and crossed her arms over her chest finally."Maybe dinner?" she offered."Yes ma'am," he agreed.*****Gun Scott, USMC has been home from the Middle East long enough to start work as a sheriff's deputy and damn it, he's always been a sucker for an ass like that.





	1. Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Interstellar Transmissions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496170) by [LovelyThings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyThings/pseuds/LovelyThings), [ricca_riot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricca_riot/pseuds/ricca_riot). 
  * Inspired by [The North Shore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14126034) by [strawberrycupcake_huckleberrypie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrycupcake_huckleberrypie/pseuds/strawberrycupcake_huckleberrypie). 
  * Inspired by [True North](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254167) by [strawberrycupcake_huckleberrypie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrycupcake_huckleberrypie/pseuds/strawberrycupcake_huckleberrypie). 



> I'm a sucker for a reader like kikikitkat who prompted me. 
> 
> If you want more Rogun, the comments section is where to prompt me what you'd like to see <3 
> 
> xo

 

 

In some ways, this didn't feel all that different from Afghanistan.   
Tennessee mid-summer is hot as blazes and it's noisy as hell out here, all the screaming and shouting and guitar riffs melting together under the southern Tennessee sunshine like a scoop of ice cream filtering into the concrete under his feet, just a shit-ton of general cacophony to bear. 

Everything's sticky, like the whole world is sweaty and gritty, everything layered over in a fine sand of humanity, raucous energy and Kool-Aid dye, stained pink around the edges and sickeningly sweet, the kind of thing that makes Gun want a pair of noise-cancelling headphones, some tobacco chaw to stuff into his bottom lip and the freedom to crack his back and sit down. 

After this, he's gonna get in his cruiser and drive home in celestial, goddamn utter silence.

_Now I sound like PawPaw_ , he thinks _,_ using words from Granny Scott's old hymnal alongside a curse word. He smiles to himself remembering his silver-haired granny, forever shaking a cane at his grandpa, toothless and belligerent to the end, screaming at him not to take the goddamn Lord's name in vain.

_Celestial silence. Yes, please,_ Gun thinks to himself.

Looking around Riverbend, the annual Chattanooga concert grounds, stages from one end of the green rolling shorefront to the other set up to delight concert-goers for a solid week, musical acts performing their songs, crowds clamoring to see, children hankering for overpriced cotton candy and hot dogs from the vending trailers pulled onto the grounds this week, and people milling around from every, single direction as far as he could see, Gun had the distinct desire to feel for his piece. 

He was still jumpy. 

Even nearly a year home, when he picked out a single shriek from a crowd, saw one person in a huddle look shifty, glimpsed one leftover package left unattended, he got jumpy.   
Maybe he'd always be jumpy now.

He takes a deep breath and wipes his brow, at least grateful he's dressed in a collared shirt and badge above his holster while he works security, feeling the mid-June sun bear down on his nearly-bald head, his crew cut and combat boots too much of his persona now to change to something more civilian.

He still looked a lot like a Marine. Hell, he'd _always_ look like a Marine. Why not? He'd always be one. 

Acts are changing on the stages all day long, every day for a week. He's been standing here, watching with his badge pinned and his arms crossed over his chest, wordless and sweating bullets through Christian acts, heavy metal acts, countless country acts and even two sets of siblings who played guitar and sang who couldn't have been more than 10 years old and he was as sick of music as a man could be. If he never heard another song, he'd die happy now.   
Normally, he was as appreciative as the next guy for a nice Hank Williams ballad, a choppy Garth Brooks boot-scooter, or an old-timey Loretta Lynn song but, his brain needed quiet like his ears needed cotton and his feet needed an Epsom salt bath later. 

His ears perked up at the sound of a woman's voice nearby. He honed in, focusing on the situation, writing a report in his head as he watched, about to take a step towards in case there was about to be a predicament. 

"She said _'no,'_ jerkface," the tiny woman howled, nearly getting in the personal space of the man in front of her. 

There were two frat boys, backward snap-backs pulled onto their heads, sloshing beer cups in their hands, shoulder-to-shoulder looking a bit cowed at a tiny Asian woman in front of them. Gun was still deciding whether he should step in, taking in the scene when he saw one of the guys lift his hands in defeat and both men stalk away, sneering in disgust over their shoulders at the group the woman was with. 

She was small, maybe 5'2", a shiny black braid tossed over her shoulder and a fierce look in her eye. She marched back to her seat on the blanket covering the ground her party reclined on, another two women and two gentlemen, and Gun was amused she seemed to be smallest of stature and somehow had been the one to deal with whatever that interruption had been. 

 

_"Though she be tiny, she be fierce,"_ Gun mused to himself, remembering something he'd read, something he used to hear his daddy say in reference to his mama, God rest her. 

 

Gun let his attention be called back to the crowds who filtered around the grounds, only allowing his eyes occasionally to rest on the tiny woman with the black braid as it waved at him over her shoulder, swinging as she laughed, as she danced, as she tilted her head and took a drink from a shared water bottle, as she went about her picnicking and partying with her friends unaware of him. 

_Creeper,_ he thought, _quit staring._

A call on his walkie alerted him to a need elsewhere and Gun took off in a brisk walk, nodding to the officer nearby in acknowledgment before heading off to help at another end of the concert grounds. Some jackass brought a gun, goddamn it, there was always one idiot, always had to go and ruin it for everyone else, wasn't there, and there was too much alcohol around to expect people to be in control. Gun went to assist the officers who were handling the hothead and hurried back to his station. 

_Two more hours, I can do it,_ he thought, scanning the grass in front of him for the woman with the black braid whose head he'd studied for the last hour, planning to go back to watching her. 

But, her blanket was pulled up, her party was gone, she was not there. 

Gun spun a little, nonchalantly, running a hand over his scruffy goatee, lowering his mirrored sunglasses a little so as not to miss anything as he scanned the crowd.

_How could she have gotten that far so fast?_ he wondered. _Fiesty, braided up and fast? Damn._ 

He was craning his head so much he barely recognized it when Rose stepped up to him and was beside him, right next to his right shoulder when he looked straight ahead again, a ghost of a girl who just appeared out of thin air at his side. 

Gun's heart skipped a beat and he jerked a little at her proximity, shocked at her nearness suddenly, taking in her thick-rimmed eyeglasses framing chocolate brown, laughing eyes, a button nose scattered with a handful of barely-visible freckles, that full, black braid of smooth hair hanging over her shoulder against her collarbone, asking to be tugged, and lips the color of strawberries in season. 

He peered down at her and barely had a chance to wonder why she was laughing at him when she crooked one index finger at him while looking him in the eye. 

She was beckoning him. _Where?_ he thought. _Down?_

"Lower," she said, her voice soft enough to be private and loud enough to travel the soundwaves above the band on stage beyond them as he cocked his head towards her obediently. 

"Lower," she repeated, still quirking a finger at him, calling for his head to come closer to her ear, all the way past the 8 inches that separated their heights. 

When he was close enough, she cupped a hand to her mouth and Gun looked at the stage, focusing through his sunglasses at the act up there, tuned in only to what this woman wanted to ask him, wanted to tell him, wanted from him. His eyes were trained ahead but, his brain was tuned to her frequency. 

 

"Your fly's down," she whispered. 

 

His brain stuttered. _No._

"Come again?" he asked, hoping he'd misheard, hoping with all his soul like he'd never wished before, he'd misheard her. 

 

"X-Y-Z, examine your zipper," she said, a twinkle in her eye as Gun turned to look at her, "your fly's down," she reported merrily. 

 

" _Shit_ ," he murmured, his southern drawl extending the word several syllables until it sounded like _sheeeeet_. 

The woman with the black braid giggled uproariously, apparently enjoying his discomfort immensely as Gun angled his body away from hers and sure enough, _damn it_ , his fly _was_ down and he yanked it up hard enough to keep it in that position forever. 

"Thank you," he said under his breath, never more embarrassed in his life, the woman beside him laughing while his face flushed red to the top of his head, and back to normal again, the blood rushing from his center to his scalp back to his center again. 

He smiled down at her and let himself enjoy her tinkling laugh, like bells or chimes in the wind or something, and he heard her sigh to herself in deep amusement as she finally recovered from her laughing fit. She peered up at Gun and he felt his mouth go dry, his palms sweaty from the summer sun and this pretty girl who smelled like joy and funnel cakes, something sweet and light as air. 

Before he could say anything, the other people she had been with earlier came up in a knot around her, their return adding to the noise and bluster of the entire concert grounds scene around them and Gun shrank back into his official role as deputy and security officer, his hands meeting over his groin to shield his zipper from anyone else's examination, his shoulders pulling back again to set him at his full height once more. 

"Ready, Rosie?" one of the men asked the woman beside him.

"Yep," she replied, looking one last, tiny time up at Gun beside her. 

Gun watched her take one step away from him out of the corner of his eye, watched her apple-round bottom in a modest pair of lace-trimmed denim shorts walk away from him and thought, _well, damn it,_ and he moved one hand towards her as if to draw her back. 

  
Without touching her he called out, "uh, hey, wait..." and breathed a sigh of relief when she paused. 

"Go on, be right there," she told her companions, before turning back to Gun. 

"Yeah?" she asked, one hand propped on her hip, her braid landing against her back as she swung around to face him. 

"Uh," he began, what did he want? What could he say? _Think man, think,_ he instructed himself. 

"Could I maybe buy you a drink sometime?" he asked, adding before she could refuse, " to thank you for...for that?" 

She took a step towards him and surveyed him. She looked up at his eyes, read his name on his badge, eyed his gun in his holster, scanned his tattoo on his right forearm and crossed her arms over her chest finally. 

"Maybe dinner?" she offered.

"Yes ma'am," he agreed, his face splitting into a wide grin, a huge exhale escaping his lungs thankfully. 

 

_Lucky son of a gun_ , he thought to himself, looking at her as she took a pen from her purse and drew his left forearm into her hand. 

_Rose 409-4564_ :) she scrawled in script on his left hand, giving Gun a minute to study her up close, breathe her in. 

 

"Officer Scott," she said when she was finished, looking again at his badge, "I'm Rose," she said, capping her pen and putting it back into her purse strung across her middle. 

"I'm Gun," he said, taking her hand in both of his and shaking it gently, "and I'm honored."

 

 *******

 


	2. Fly Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> up next: chatting about family history. 
> 
> Prompt me. 
> 
> #TGFG #ThankGodForGun

 

It had to be something like 4 years since anyone had cooked for Gun. 

  
His mama had been gone 10 years already and even though Granny Scott was still alive, she'd been in the old folks' home for about 5 years now and even before then, she wasn't completely to be trusted in the kitchen anymore.   
  
The last time Gun ate food anyone had cooked for _him_ \- not for his whole battalion, not for his regiment, not for his team, not for his department, _just_ for Gun - was probably when his daddy had cooked some Thanksgiving dinner for him when he'd been home 4 years prior, before he'd been deployed to the Middle East, and God love his heart, it had _not_ been good.   
It was terrible, actually, lumpy in weird ways, and rubbery and somehow slimy, although Gun didn't even want to consider how that was possible. 

All in all, his father attempting her old recipes once she was gone had only made Gun even more lonely for his mama and the next year, when they'd handed out rationed paper trays with sections containing taupe slices of turkey, neon red cranberry sauce and sticky stuffing, nothing like the homemade cornbread dressing his mama always made, it was almost a relief the whole meal was basically unrecognizable.

Somehow, that was easier. 

Normally now, Gun ate takeout, the three dishes he knew how to cook at home himself, or whatever someone at the station made and left in the kitchen at the precinct, normally enchiladas or lasagne or something else that could be made for a bunch, eaten by many, and anonymously distributed. He had long since stopped waiting for someone to cook for him specifically, and as a bachelor he understood it to be just the way things were. 

 

On their first date, Gun took Rose to _Althea's,_ an Italian place near downtown with heavy front doors you had to guess at in order to open, something he hadn't been appreciative of as he'd approached with Rose beside him, finding him silently praying the door pulled towards him and that he wasn't pushing the wrong end, wondering why the hell high-end establishments had to be so goddamn pretentious about things like the doors when there were men just trying to impress their dates in this world.

 _Althea's_ had been a good spot to take Rose, though, and it was about the best first date Gun had ever had.

Right away, Gun knew he liked Rose because she ordered a good bottle of red wine, and poured them each a glass, didn't twitter around like a bird, pretending she was clueless or needy, just knew what was good and ordered and poured and handed it to him as if to say _I know what you need,_  and within 10 minutes he was sure of it, she was the sexiest goddamn woman he'd ever seen in his whole fucking life.

She laughed like a cell phone ringtone, bright and clear, and joyous and often, and it made Gun grin just to hear her, made him want to be the reason she laughed and the one to hear it.   
She talked about the bank she worked at and asked about military life and seemed deeply interested in what he shared, so much he wondered if she had military background herself but when he asked if she did you could see the people seated nearby looking at her for how loudly she laughed at him. 

"Bad news," she said, popping a piece of gnocchi in her mouth, "I can make gnocchi better than this, _Althea_ ," she'd said, apparently taunting the establishment, her pink cheeks each as rosy as her name as she smiled around a bite. 

"That so?" Gun asked, teasing, interested, smiling at her, his chicken parmesan definitely not the most interesting thing tonight. 

"Oh yes. I may work at a bank but, my _real_ passion is cooking," Rose had said, the sparkle in her eye winking at him like a Fourth of July firecracker tucked inside each iris.

This woman was not like any other Gun had known.

She was certain about a lot of things - _most_ things, in fact, and that was not only a relief for Gun who always knew his own mind on things, as well, but it was a downright turn-on, knowing she had an opinion and talents and self-awareness to vocalize such things.   
He couldn't help but wonder if that confidence would extend to the bedroom but he sure as hell hoped so.   
Gun had enough of women who laid there limp as a dish towel, too bored or too intimidated or too tired or too meek to use their voice, meet him halfway, let alone blow his mind and the thought of a woman with a brain in her head and a tongue in her mouth as well as a round behind and a real nice rack...well, it was enough to make him salivate and make sure his lap had a cloth napkin over it to be polite in the restaurant. 

 

Tonight though, for their second date, Rose was making good on her boasting about her cooking and preparing dinner at her house - well, the house she shared with her sister - and Gun was nervous. 

Paige, Rose's sister had answered the door when he arrived and introduced herself, though Gun remembered her from the Riverbend concert two weeks earlier where he'd met Rose, and she'd led him to the kitchen where Rose was still finishing dinner prep before excusing herself upstairs.   
  
"Hi," Rose said, turning over her shoulder to greet Gun, an apron over some one-piece shorts and tank top combo, just one piece. _A jumper? A onesie? What do they call those things? A culotte? A romper? Who knows_ , but, it looks like there can't be much to it and right away it's messing with him. 

"Hi," Gun says, laying a bouquet of fresh flowers on the table, feeling his chest let off happiness like a slow leak in a tire just being in the kitchen with her.

It's warm and it smells delicious and his mouth is watering already, maybe from the smells, maybe from the way the fabric of that outfit hangs off her butt while she's standing there at the stove, maybe because there's a big, ol' bow situated right at her lower back where her apron is tied but whatever it is, Gun is one hundred percent certain it's the best thing he's felt in the last entire week since he last saw Rose. 

"Here, taste," Rose says, holding out a wooden spoon, cupping a second hand beneath to catch any spills, motioning for Gun to come close. 

He stands behind Rose and places a hand gently on her hip, leaning over her shoulder to taste the spoon's offering and when the mushroom sauce hits his mouth it blooms in a way that makes his eyes slide shut and his fingers squeeze into the flesh at her hip and he feels the thin, cool fabric slide against her while he swallows the aromatic goodness down. 

 _"Holy mother,"_ he breathes after he swallows, and opens his eyes, Rose grinning up at him, his hand still on her hip, "that's amazing." He cannot recall ever tasting anything akin to that before in his life and certainly if he had it wasn't that spectacular. 

She turns back to the stove and keeps stirring. "Just another two minutes and we'll eat," she says, "filet mignon with this mushroom sauce and Hasselback potatoes and Brussel sprouts, and flourless chocolate cake for dessert," she finishes, mixing spoons into bubbling pots and checking knobs and talking to Gun behind her at the same time. 

Gun stays right behind her and leaves his hand on her hip, and decides, _eh, let's try this and see what happens_ , and gently lays his other hand on her other hip, steadying himself as his heart pounds harder and his body starts lighting up with her nearness. He holds his groin away from her body, no need to overwhelm her with the fact she's already getting him hard, _just start slow, give her a minute_ but, his brain and his hands stop agreeing and he sorts through about a dozen different ways to touch her as he watches her shoulder blades move under her top, busy and determined and capable and beckoning him closer. 

Her hair is in a ponytail, all the longer hair wisping around the back of her neck from here and he can't help it, he reaches to brush it off her neck and feel for himself what strands that silky feel like. 

  
She freezes slightly under his hands, the pots going unstirred while she glances back at him over her shoulder and smiles into his eyes, and Gun thinks, _oh hell yes,_ and smirks to himself, mentally fist pumping the air when she's turned back to the stove. 

It's the best meal Gun has had in years.

It's nothing like the Southern fare his family cooked, nothing like the fried chicken and collards and chow chow and butter beans of his youth. It's nothing like the military food he'd eaten for years, nothing like the paper potatoes and the wiry meat substitutes and the powdered milky substances of his young adulthood. This is delectable, it's downright sinful, and she'd made it for him especially. 

Rose curled her legs up underneath her on the couch and placed a round pillow on top of her lap, fidgeting with the tassels while they chatted.

He hadn't kissed her on the first date, not on her lips, he was a gentleman after all and even if he hadn't been he wasn't exactly a slouch, he knew women needed to be courted and part of that was allowing for some tension, a little heat and delayed gratification if you will but, this thing with Rose was too good and he was too hopeful not to go for it now.   
Leaning in, he hovered in front of Rose's face while she finished her sentence, just a few inches from her face, his nose brushing hers when he breathed. She was still as a statue, and Gun picked up her fingers with his own from off the pillow and brought them to his mouth, kissing her hand. 

She watched his eyes and stopped talking, the room silent except for their hushed breathing, anticipation heavy as a rain cloud above them, threatening to dump on their heads if they delayed. 

"Thank you for dinner," Gun said, leaving his hand cradling hers as it lay back on the pillow in her lap. 

"You're welcome," Rose said quietly, watching him intently, "I...I made dessert," she said and he heard the nerves in her voice, knew it was time to show her it was okay to let go. 

"Rose, you're already about the sweetest thing I've ever seen," he said, deciding to seal the deal and not a moment too soon, he couldn't have waited another second and he'd bet neither could she.

She moved towards him just as soon as he'd brought his lips against hers, bringing his hand to the back of her head, pulling her to himself, tasting how sweet a girl she really was, how delicious, how wonderful. 

His daddy would definitely have called it neckin', they kissed so long on Rose's couch, and his lips felt bee-stung when he pulled away, his face pulling into a natural smile without even checking in with him about it, pleasure just peeking right out through every pore.

"I gotta get going," he sighed reluctantly, knowing work would arrive early the next morning and knowing the sooner he left the sooner he could get a jump on tomorrow when he was already planning on asking Rose out again. 

"Gonna serve and protect us all?" Rose asked, her eyes barely opened, her nose lightly grazing his as they remained entwined on the couch. 

"Best I can while I'm busy thinking about this hot little girl I've been seein'," he answers, kissing her with slowing, gentled kisses, trying to wind down so he can get his junk back under control before standing.

"Okay," Rose murmured, visibly slightly dazed from all the kissing, her ponytail drooping where Gun had threaded his hands through it, her eyes glazed as she looked up at him beside her. "Oh!" she said, her eyes widening, jumping up, "the cake!" 

She busied herself in the kitchen and returned with a small plastic container, a red heart drawn on the clear lid, a generous slice of deep chocolate cake hidden inside and she reached up onto tiptoes while pulling Gun's lapels down to kiss his mouth like she meant business before drawing back. 

"I'm calling you tomorrow to ask you out again," he said, her chin in his hand, the cake in his other. 

"I'm saying yes when you do," she said, kissing him as he leaned down again. 

"God _damn_ , woman," he said, with a head shake as he headed for the door, "you don't know what you're doing to me."

 "Well," Rose said with an exaggerated sigh, her head leaning against the doorframe as she watched him walk down the front stairs and head for her driveway, "I hope I'll find out soon."

 _"Sweet mercy,"_ Gun replied, a glance at the dark sky above, "I'm gonna look forward to showing you."

 

*******

 


	3. Fly Me To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompts accepted BUT, I have the smut planned already. <3 
> 
> xo

 

 

The drive home from Rose's was a lengthy one, his acreage in Soddy-Daisy being a good half-hour drive from her place on Chattanooga's North Shore, and that slice of chocolately goodness she'd sent home with him sat beside him in the passenger seat of his cruiser, smiling up at him from the Tupperware container the whole drive just begging to be devoured, sitting there all decadent and dark as night, the same bewitching shade of black as Rose's hair, mouthwatering as her perfume, intoxicating as her very presence. 

Gun pulled onto the private dirt lane leading to his small, two-bedroom, clapboard white farmhouse at the back of his ten green acres of Scott family land and turned the car off in front of his porch, not even bothering to go in the house and find a fork in his kitchen, not even bothering to move himself to his porch swing just sitting right there in his seat and ate the whole thing, picturing Rose making the dessert the entire time, licking his fingers clean afterwards with a satisfied smile on his face. 

Nothing chocolate had ever tasted like that cake before. 

It was a slice of pure ecstasy but even so, it couldn't compare to the Promised Land, the Shangri-La if you will, of that woman's sweet lips he'd kissed tonight. 

Gun picked up his phone and called Rose, opening his door and climbing out of his cruiser, slamming the car door behind him as he took the three wide wooden stairs to his porch and sat down on the swing to wait. 

"Hello, Officer Scott," Rose said when she answered, a smile in her voice for him, "I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon," she teased. 

"Ate that cake and couldn't wait one more damn minute to hear your voice, if I'm honest," he said, leaning back and giving a kick to swing himself in the June nighttime air of his farm. "Couldn't wait for tomorrow after all," he admitted. 

"Must have been _some_ cake," she offered. 

"Best cake I ever ate," he easily conceded, "best dinner I ever ate, Rose. You might be the best cook in Tennessee. That was absolutely incredible. _You're_ incredible," he told her. 

"Thank you," she answered, and fell silent, though Gun would bet she was blushing. 

"Can I come take you to lunch tomorrow?" he asked. "Come swing by and pick you up at work on your break?" 

"Yes, you may," she said, playing this game they were engaged in of ritualized dating manners, the ones born Southerners know and practice without prompting, bred into their bones by society, peer pressure and generations of family conditioning, "but, _I'm_ making our lunch," she countered. 

"You'll ruin me for take-out forever," Gun answered, smirking. 

"11:30 work for you?" Rose asked.

"Yes ma'am," Gun said, "at your beck and call, pretty lady."

"See you then, officer," Rose said, "g'night."

"G'night."

 

********

 

He could've dialed down the swagger if he was honest but really, Gun was way past worrying about it to pay much attention and he was far, far too pumped to see Rose for lunch to be all that concerned with how much strut he put on his walk as he made his way into the bank at 11:25 am the next day to collect Rose for lunch.   
He sauntered up to her teller window, hiking his belt slightly, taking in his surroundings as always, back straight and feelers alert just in case - this was a bank after all, and he was armed and prepared and never off his guard completely, don't be ridiculous, he was still on-duty even if he was on lunch - and he smiled brightly when he caught Rose's attention as her customer walked away and she met his eyes with her own. 

"You ready for lunch, Ms. Tico?" he asked, propping one elbow on the counter, the glass between them both a nuisance and a helpful aid in easing them back into physical contact, this being their first interaction after their mad make-out session on her couch the previous night. 

"Yep," Rose said, jumping up from her swivel chair and closing her window down, "meet you out front," she grinned at him, her loose black hair falling over her shoulders as she bent to push in her chair. 

Gun waited at the double front glass doors of the bank, holding them open for customers as he awaited Rose, and enjoyed the view of her backside under a knee-length dress as she walked through the door he held open for her, keeping his hands to himself as he followed her to his cruiser, a respectful distance between them, especially while he was in uniform out in public. He opened the passenger side door for her, admiring her shapely legs in a hot pair of spiky heels as she climbed into his car and he took an excessively deep breath to encourage his groin to simmer down as he rounded the car and climbed in the other side. 

Shutting his door tightly and turning to Rose, he felt her lean towards him and kiss his lips unabashedly, her hand sliding up the back of his head as she pulled him towards herself across the console, the car design working to keep them apart the only thing restraining Gun once he realized what was happening. 

"Hi," she breathed, a smile meant for him appearing, her professionalism left in the bank and the firecracker returned.

"Well, hi there," he said, giving a low whistle and a small head shake. He could get used to this. 

Rose pulled up a basket onto her lap, a straight-up, full-on woven wood picnic basket complete with gingham lining and two handles, and she unlatched the lid revealing wrapped sandwiches and cloth napkins, handing Gun lunch in a way no one in his life ever had before. 

"Definitely ruining me forever," he said, wondering how he'd ever go back to fast food burgers and tacos.

"Spoiling you, maybe, because you need spoiling but, never ruining," she said, concentrating on assembling their meals.

 

She handed him a hearty handful of food, homemade pimento cheese and baked, sliced country ham sandwiched between two thick pieces of homemade cornbread and he shook his head at it before taking a bite, crumbs landing in the napkin at his lap as his eyes rolled back and he tasted the paradise he held in his hands like a man saved. 

"Dear _Lord_ , this is delicious," he said, savoring every morsel, torn between scarfing it down and taking his time, "it's like entering the goddamn Beulah Land, good _night_ , woman! This is unreal," he raved, eyes wide with praise as he exclaimed over his meal, Rose laughing at each compliment in it's exceeding nature. 

"You're gonna spoil me, too," she smiled at him as he reached over and kissed her lips between bites, handing her a water bottle he'd brought her, happy to be providing. 

"Damn," he muttered, still amazed to be taken care of in this way by anyone, let alone a pretty, little woman with a heart of gold and an ass that wouldn't quit, wondering how he'd gotten lucky like this, thinking about how many lunches he'd spent in his car, or on patrol, in the desert, in the barracks, at a desk, on a plane, in the back five acres, in a deer stand with a handful of Cheetos and a tar-flavored energy bar. 

 _Yep,_ he thought, _she's ruining me._

He hadn't had cornbread like this since...well, since his mama's and he nearly choked on the next bite as it fought the rising emotion and tears he considered acquiescing to for a moment before collecting himself. 

 

 

"I want you to meet my friends," Rose said, peering over at Gun thoughtfully, watching his reaction. "You wanna?"

"Sure thing," Gun replied, focusing on Rose's invite instead of how much the food made him swell with love for his mama and a swell of ardor for this woman beside him who had made him remember her so tangibly, "love to. Whatchya got in mind?"

"How about dinner? Thursday night, at Sugar's Barbeque?" she suggested. "My sister Paige will be there and my best friend, Rey. She's been my best friend since we were in 4th grade together at Normal Park Elementary and she owns Resistance Video on North Shore Avenue with Finn, he'll be there, too, and his boyfriend, Poe." 

"Sounds like a plan," he grinned at her, thinking how pretty Rose was, how good that damn sandwich was, how blessed a man he was to have shared this with her. "Can't wait. Can I pick you up and take you that night?"

"I think I'd like it if you took me anywhere," she said, granting him another kiss. 

 

**********

 

"Heard so much about you, Gun, nice to meet you," Poe said, as he extended a hand to Gun over the table, half-risen from his seat to greet himself and Rose when they met her friends two nights later for BBQ. 

"It's nice to meet all y'all," Gun said, sitting beside Rose, having shaken everyone's hands at the table finally, "Rose talks about y'all so fondly, I feel like I already know you guys."

"Well don't believe any of _that,_ definitely, then," Finn said joking, "she has to keep us all in line," he said with a grin, handing Gun a menu across the table. 

Gun smiled at Rose next to him as she tsk'ed Finn and rolled her eyes at him. 

"So, Rosie says you're a police officer, is that right, Gun?" Rey asked, her chin propped in her hand, giving him all her attention.

Gun took care to project confidence and a certain level of deferment to each of these people gathered, realizing they were gatekeepers to Rose to a certain extent as well as people very important to her so, he was gracious as possible as he handled each of their questions, mindful to make a good first impression. 

"Sherrif's deputy, that's right," he said, "former Marine, home almost a year from the Middle East now," he said. "And happy to be home again," he said with a sigh. "And you run a store? Is that right?" he asked Rey. 

"Finn and me, sure do," she said, "we co-own Resistance Video, your one-stop shopping destination for little-known and less-cared-for vintage videos and DVDs. Just in case, you know, you need a random, old, obscure movie title spur-of-the-moment or anything, ya know," she teased self-deprecatingly. 

"So Gun..." Paige began, "what kinda name is that, anyway? _Gun._ Is that your real name or...?"

"Got it a long time ago," he explained, "actually, kind of a funny story," he looked around to make sure he ought to share and went on. "When I was a kid, it took me a while to figure out how to talk. I was about 5 years old before it really took and up till then, they sorta thought I was special, ya know, maybe I'd never talk. Anyhow, I couldn't say but a handful of words: mama, daddy, granny, that sorta thing, but the one thing I could say, even from the time I was real young was 'gun'. I'd sit there in the high chair and when I was done eating something I'd holler  _'gun!'_ when I'd finished my food, because I couldn't say 'done'. So, it sort of stuck. My folks called me Gun all my life after that. And being into hunting growing up and then a Marine, well...I don't know if art imitated life or the other way around but, I'm stuck with it now." 

"So, what's your real name, then?" Poe asked. 

"Randall." 

Rey snorted. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she chortled around a second snort at Rose who was glaring at her from beside Gun, "he doesn't look like a Randall!" 

Gun grinned and put an arm around Rose who looked up at him and announced, "well, I _like_ it." 

"I'll _bet_ you do," Finn said under his breath across the table, earning another glare, " we can see you like it, Rosie-Posie," he said with a suggestive snicker.

"I think it's a _fine_ name," Paige said, "and this conversation is over," she said, handing the menus she'd collected to the waitress as she approached, signaling an end to the conversation as they prepared to order food, "it's over and _gun_ ," she said, a snort erupting from her as she glanced sideways at Gun and an outburst of laughter behind it. 

"I forgot to tell you they're all children," Rose said with an exasperated eye roll as Gun hugged her into his side and they began ordering, his shoulders dropping and his tension easing as he settled his arm around her further with a smile. 

 

*******

 

"Come over tomorrow night?" Rose murmured as Gun kissed his way down her throat, her collarbones the most tantalizing size and fragile form he'd ever beheld, his eyes dragging up to hers as he pulled back to concentrate on her words. "I'll make something yummy for dinner," she offered, as if she wasn't the most desirable thing he could fathom anyhow. 

They'd been kissing for at least ten minutes in her driveway where he intended to drop Rose off after dinner and he just couldn't get enough. 

"You don't have to tempt me with food, you know," he said, "you're tempting enough as it is, woman," he said, kissing her cheeks and lips between comments, drinking in her sweet smell and taste to keep him going till he saw her again. 

"It's just what I do," she said, "and you make me want to _'do'_ for you."

"Well, just don't make dessert," Gun said, looking her in the eyes, catching the back of her neck in his palm, "I already know what I want," he told her directly.

Rose bit her lip and then leaned forward to kiss him deeply, pulling him by the collar, French kissing the fire out of him and told him as she pulled back, "I can't wait."

"Me neither, sugar," he told her as he ran a thumb over her bottom lip, watching the moisture rub in under his touch, a shimmering trail over the pinking, kiss-swollen skin. "Me neither."

 

 

*******

 

 

 


	4. Fly Me To The

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> guess what next chapter is?
> 
> xo  
> 

 *********

 

 

Being raised on a farm as he had been, Gun had never seen what the big draw of weekends was.

 

For a farm boy, all a weekend meant was more of the same: early rising to milk and collect eggs, chores, and either sweat on your brow and chest in the Tennessee sunshine or sweat in your pits under a coat in the Tennessee ice. Either way, a weekend was nothing more than school-free time and unfortunately, it held little enticement for Gun growing up.

 

Adulthood hadn't changed that much. He still had to get up and to roll out of bed, still had to shave and pack a lunch, still had to show up and clock in most of the time so, he never much saw the big deal about celebrating a Friday like all the crazies around him did.

 

Casual Friday didn't do much to float Gun's boat, in other words.

This Friday night though, Gun was going over to Rose's for dinner and he took extra care to shave his face smoothly at 3 PM when he began taking his sweet time preparing to show up at her place later that evening. He didn't want to rush things, after all, they'd only been seeing each other a few weeks but, Gun was no blushing novice.

He knew that come hither look in Rose's eye was meant for him and he intended to obey.

Hopefully, that meant tonight.

 

"Gun," Rose said, anxiety fluttering in her voice at the other end of the line, Gun's hand stilling mid-shave when he answered, his face only half-clean of shaving cream, "I have to tell you something."

Fear curled a small bunch in his belly. _Was she okay? She didn't sound okay._

"Alright," he said slowly, bracing a hand on the sink, looking into his own eyes in the mirror before him as he listened to Rose on the other end of the line.

 _This could be anything,_ he thought.

 

"I know you're coming over for dinner tonight, and I know you talked about dessert last night," she went on and then stopped abruptly for some reason, trailing off.

"Rose, hey now," Gun began, relief and a measure of concern causing him to jump in. She needn't feel pressured. That's not how he had hoped this went down. "Don't worry, we don't have to do nothin', it's fine."

"No, it's not that. It's..." she went on, still stammering.

 

He waited. He glanced down at the razor in his hand, his brain trying to decide whether he ought to continue shaving or abandon ship, try another tactic. He wasn't trying to lose this girl before things even got started but, he was a gentleman and he needed to let her finish before pleading a case for her to calm down.

"I...I... _I started my period_ ," she blurted out forcefully. "I started today, sort of a few days early and normally, of course, I wouldn't say anything but, I know we were sort of...well, I mean, at least _I was_ sort of hoping...ya know, I was hoping we were moving towards being...intimate. And now...well, this. So, I wanted you to know so you can be aware. In case you have...expectations."

Gun grinned into the mirror and started shaving again, rinsing his blade and shaking excess water into the sink, taking a long stroke down his cheek.

"Whew, thought you were breaking it off with me," Gun admitted. "Gotta say, glad that wasn't it."

"Do you...still wanna come over? I mean, for dinner?" Rose asked.

"Course I do," he said, "so long as you still want me to? I can bring some take-out if you want instead of cooking?"

"Okay good," he heard Rose exhale, "no, no, I'll have dinner ready, I want to, really. Just thank you. For understanding."

"Need me to get any...lady products? From the store?" he asked. Wouldn't be the first time he bought female sanitary items, likely wouldn't be the last.

"No, thank you," Rose said with a giggle at him, "I have...lady products."

"Rose," Gun said, the cream and stubble all gone from his face, a smooth set of cheeks and chin looking back at him in the mirror, "this will only be a few days and I'll still be here after."

Rose paused and he could almost feel her smile over the phone line. "You'd better be."

 

********

 

"Normally, I'm like clockwork," Rose complained, "I can't believe now we have to wait a minute. Now that we...you know... _want_ to."

They've finished the linguine with lemon butter shrimp Rose made for dinner, sharing an oversized brownie under two scoops of vanilla ice cream and Rose's chocolate sauce and homemade whipped cream afterward, one bowl and two spoons needed, and they were circling back to the phone conversation earlier regarding their preempted intended romantic interlude for tonight.

"Uh, _I've_ wanted to since the first date," Gun grinned. "S'okay, just means you're a real woman," Gun said, his hands on Rose where they lingered on the hot water bottle he'd bought on his way over and laid on her belly once they'd sat down on the couch together. "Wouldn't want it any other way."

Rose smiled at him. That was good enough for him. He'd bet playing a long hand would pay off. This was a good woman and she was worth waiting for.

 

He told her all about his farm growing up. His granny and pawpaw and mama and daddy, his dog, Cricket, a beagle, who'd died when he left for the Marines, his family history in Daisy, back before it merged with Soddy and became Soddy-Daisy proper, and all the country politics involved with two stubborn, rebel townships melding, about his mama passing. He talked about boot camp, about deployment in Afghanistan, about his buddy, Draper who lost an arm and his buddy, Cory who died when an IED went off at a checkpoint he was manning, about how hard it was coming home and missing all his brothers and sisters in the Marines, how much he missed the camaraderie. 

Rose listened and wound her fingers through his, tearing up or giggling or rubbing his knuckles in her hand, depending on what was called for.

She told him about her parents immigrating as adolescents, from Vietnam, about growing up in Chattanooga as an Asian person, about her friends and her job at the bank and her love of cooking and her dreams about opening a restaurant or catering business one day.

 

Gun leaned over as she was finishing and interrupted her so many times she gave up talking and kissed him back, her arms winding around his broad back as he teased his fingers into her ponytail.

"First time I saw you, I couldn't quit staring at your hair," he told her as they kissed on her couch.

"Yeah?" she smiled against his lips, scooting closer, her knees pulled up and hanging over his lap.

"Sure enough," he said, skimming his lips over hers, stopping to suck them into his mouth before licking each inch of the plumpness in further, relishing each tiny gasp he felt her take. "Felt like your braid was calling my name. Asking me to come pull your hair."

"Such a _boy,_ " Rose grinned, pulling back and looking at him, "pulling hair to get a girl's attention."

"I can't help if your body looks so fun to me," he said, pulling her back into his arms, chest to chest so he could get at her better.

"Fun?" Rose snickered, taking a breath as she laughed at him.

"Yeah," he said, taking the opportunity to kiss along her throat, "all those soft buttons and secret compartments. You're like a playground."

Rose gave a hearty laugh and Gun slipped a hand over her bra but under her shirt, grazing his hand exactly where he presumed the center of her breast to be and _yes, hot damn, sweet Jesus mmmhmmm,_ she had a nice set of tits.

"Know what I thought the first time I saw you?" Rose asked him as he teased his hand over her breast, familiarizing himself with her shape, the swell of her, the curve of her fit into his grasp, how nicely she was formed to suit him, how beautiful her cheeks looked the color of communion wine with his hands exciting her like this.

"What's that?" he asked, kissing her lightly, his nose rubbing alongside hers, "that my damn fly was down?"

Rose chuckled at him, "okay, well, the second thing I thought. Know what it was?"

He shook his head, moving his hand to greet her other breast, thrilled it was a match set and pleased as punch he was getting away with this.

"I thought, 'now I understand the whole thing about a man in a uniform'," she told him.

"Oh yeah?" Gun asked, amused. "You like the ol' uniform?"

"I sure do, Officer Scott. I think it makes me a bit of a mess, actually."

Gun gave a head shake and thought about her monthly time and started counting days mentally. In about a week hopefully, she'd be back in fighting shape, and maybe then he could have her come up to his place. No siblings around there.

"I'd sure like to make a mess with you, I'll tell you what, babe. Make you a sweet, hot mess," he said, grazing his fingertips over the fabric of her bra, pinching her nipple inside it and kissing her deeply.

Rose's head lolled backward and she groaned. "Dear God," she moaned under her breath. "This isn't fair."

"No rushing," Gun assured her, "Daddy will take good care of you."

 

*******


	5. Fly Me To The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I see Gun as somewhere between Benjamin Mackenzie and Michael Chiklis all the way up to Jason Statham on the Cute Cop Continuum. 
> 
> You tell me what you see. 
> 
> xo

************

Gun Scott has a smile on his face.

The July sun is a yellow canopy of generosity above him, he's got a full tank of gas to fly down to Chattanooga's North Shore unimpeded, he got a good 5 hours of sleep so far this morning, and night shift wasn't even all that rough. All in all, he's feeling pretty damn good. He's jazzed, if you will.

He's had lunch with Rose three times this week and each time she surprised him with something scrumptious to fill his belly and something tempting all her own to give him a hard-on that wouldn't quit the rest of his day. Wednesday she'd had on a skirt and she'd climbed over the console right into his lap while he kissed her silly, straddled him right there in his cruiser, honked the horn a touch with her ample booty, scared the shit out of them both.

 

"Dear Lord, woman," Gun groaned into her mouth between kisses, trapped under her sweet, womanly embrace above and around him, her legs trapping him in the driver seat, his hands clawing at the fabric around the zipper at her back, "makes me crazy I can't get at you like this."

He palmed her tits over her dress and kissed her neck when she offered it to him, her head tilted back, eyes closed just like he wanted them, just how he'd hoped she'd respond to his hands.

"Come up to my place on Saturday," he'd suggested as he ran his hands down her sides, landing on her hips, thrusting his uniformed groin up into her panties a little, just to hint, just to emphasize his intention, "what do you say?"

"Is that an order, Officer Scott?" Rose lowered her head and kissed him again, her words dripping with innuendo, with the flirt of a game as she ground down on his lap.

"No ma'am," he said, kissing her back, "not unless you _want_ it to be," looking at her in the eye.

"Oh, I'm _definitely_ coming up to your place Saturday," Rose said after a moment of consideration as she met his gaze eye-to-eye, after a moment, "and you're definitely getting lucky."

 

Yes, Gun Scott has a smile on his face as he drives to Rose's this Saturday afternoon.

 

*********

 

 

Driving back to Soddy-Daisy with Rose beside him is even better than driving to Rose's to pick her up. He'd pull off and grab them a bite to eat but, he'd gotten everything at the store Rose had texted him before work last night, already stocked his fridge and cleaned his house up, ran a vacuum and put fresh sheets on the bed just in case. He's a gentleman, Gun Scott is no horny teenager intent on getting off, he's a lover, not a fighter but, he can't remember the last time he was this riled up by a woman and he's feeling a touch shaky with anticipation.

Rose maybe identifies his nerves, and she lets her hand drift to the back of his neck as he drives, and he feels his heart slow dutifully.

 

"So, you grew up on your property? All your life?" Rose asked as Gun drove, squeezing the back of his neck lightly.

"All my life," he affirmed.

His daddy had moved out when Gun left for the Marines, unable to enjoy the farm anymore without Gun's mama and himself, had moved up to Kentucky within 6 months to be near alot of his cousins, always a man in touch with his feelings and unwilling to live a lonely life. He'd gotten involved with the VFW as a Korean war vet himself, so when Gun was discharged from the Marines the farm was vacant, paid for and available. It was a no-brainer to come back and move in, get reacclimated, get back on his feet. He'd taken the job at the Sherrif's Department 3 weeks later.

"Think you'll always live there?" Rose wondered.

"Oh, well now, I dunno," Gun said. "Sure love the land. I love all the green spread out every direction, I like settin' out on the porch to drink my coffee in the morning, see the dew all sparkly on the grass. I'd miss that. And I like the quiet. Although, it does get lonely. If I'm not working a stretch and it's just me at the house for a couple days I do get lonely. Seeing the world, traveling was awesome. Really blew my mind, showed me how big the world was, ya know? No, I'd leave. I know I'd leave. But, I'd miss it."

Rose just listened and watched the cityscape evolve slowly into countryside outside the window as they drove and Gun hoped he had said things which complimented Rose's thought process for her future.

"What about you?" he asked, curious. "Think you'll always live with Paige? In North Shore?"

"Oh, no," she said easily. "I love my sister and I love our little house. I love my life. But, I want a husband and babies. _One day_." she added emphatically, hurriedly. "Not right away, I'm just saying _one day_."

Maybe most men would have felt threatened or anxious about such honest words but, Gun identified relief and amusement and concentrated on steering so he didn't give anything away. No need to rush.

 _Down, boy,_ he thought.

 

"Wow," Rose breathed when they turned down the gravel lane towards the small white house. 10 acres of green, manicured grass spread out in every direction behind a tall wooden fence hiding the property from the road, a towering oak tree hanging a canopy of branches over the drive at they approached the garage.

Rose climbed out of the car when Gun did, a look of impressed happiness barely concealed brought Gun a bloom of pride as he watched her survey the house and grounds, which he alone meticulously maintained in his free time, admittedly little of which there had been in recent weeks due to his courtship of Rose but, ample enough to keep the weeds pulled, the house cleaned and orderly, and the yard clipped neatly.

"Yeah?" Gun asked, slipping his arms around Rose's waist where she stood beside her car door, still turning little circles to look out at his property from every angle. "You like it?"

"It's so pretty," she admitted, her hands raising to rest on Gun's biceps, his hands laced at her lower back.

"Pretty," he repeated, leaning in to kiss her. "C'mon," he said, taking her hand and pulling her up the three wide stairs to the front door, pushing it open without unlocking the door, no need to have locked it out here in the country.

He pulled her through the house, letting her take it all in, the wood-burning fireplace with wide brick hearth in the living room, the tidy white kitchen with yellowing cabinets and old Formica countertops, the wide-planked, original cedar wood floors, the tiny single bathroom with claw-foot tub and poor ventilation, the downstairs master bedroom he saw her quickly scan and dismiss intentionally as they made their way to the back door of the house, a glass-paned door leading to the rear stoop and the wide, empty pastures beyond.

Wordlessly, Gun grabbed a quilt off the top of the dryer where it was folded after being washed and continued down the back stairs, Rose pulling off her purse from around herself and leaving it in its place on top of the dryer.

"Oh!" Rose exclaimed quietly as she walked through the short grass with Gun, the sunshine spilling all around them, the Saturday afternoon calm deeply infiltrating every square inch of the grounds as well as their bodies, the bubbling creek at the edge of the 2 acres of yard separating the house grounds from the wilder pastures beyond trickling quickly over the stones beneath, a musical tinkling audible as soon as they exited the house.

Gun stopped a few feet from the water and left off holding Rose's hand, and with a smile pulled his shirt off one hand from behind his head, masculine hopefulness and a distinctly naughty hint of challenge tumbling over his normally-reserved features.

"I'm gonna get wet," he ventured, "how 'bout you?"

"Uh," was all Rose answered, watching wide-eyed as Gun unbuckled his pants and then hesitated.

"Grew up skinny-dippin' in this creek," he told her, the word sounding more like _crick_ under his Southern drawl accent, "definitely the best way to enjoy it," and hesitated again before asking, "ya mind if I..."

Rose smirked and replied, "by all means," openly staring as he dropped his pants and kicked them off, his half-erection visible under his boxers, his chest broad and shoulders back, all proud military man of him wide and gleeful to expose his manhood proudly to his woman.

He turned his back to her and dropped the boxers too, his naked backside stark white against his farmer's tanned arms and less-brown legs, making his way carefully down the slippery rocks as the water tumbled around his ankles, then knees, then thighs, finally his waist until he dipped his head under the water and came up again breathless, wiping the water from his face with one hand before opening his eyes and turning around.

He lifted a hand to help Rose climb in, who had discarded her knee-length floral sundress on the grass, her sandals kicked aside, dressed only in a skimpy bralette and panties, which Gun was happy to see. Maybe this was his plan all along, maybe it wasn't, he wasn't about to tell but, he thanked his lucky stars she'd followed suit all the same.

"C'mere," he said as she shivered slightly and gingerly made her way down the mossy rocks beyond the grassy bank and slid into Gun's arms, gliding into place wrapped around him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist as he realized cold water or not, he was still half-hard, the miracle being he wasn't moreso attributed only to the water temperature.

Gun didn't have to be told twice. He kissed her fast and slow and good and deep, let his tongue get lost in her sweet little mouth, let his hands wander her curvy, feminine body, let his mind unleash a bit, planning out how to restrain himself and go slowly when he could feel his self-control slipping with each tender whimper that escaped her lips into his open mouth. Rose pulled away and reached behind herself to unclasp her bra, throwing it onto the bank and resumed kissing him, her hard nipples grazing his chest deliciously, the last shreds of decent decorum abandoned with that bra.

He kissed her hungrily, running his hands under her ass, that round booty he could not fuckin' get enough of and walked them to the grass bank, lifting her up to sit on it. He leaned over and kissed her, feeling her lay her head on the pillow of grass beneath her and slid himself back into the water til he was waist-deep, the water only lapping at her ankles now.

He looked at her face, made sure she was enjoying this, felt himself grow harder seeing her chest bare and her breasts crowned with nipples tight enough to cut glass and pulled her panties off, throwing them onto the pile of clothes nearby and told her in a husky voice, _"spread your thighs"_ before plunging into her ripe pussy, licking and sucking at her clit, feeling her take his fingers in, his tongue sliding top to bottom and back up again and then deep, deep into her, encouraged by her moans and nails scraping his crew cut hair.

"Oh, Daddy," he heard her moan quietly, the creek the only noise besides her gentle panting above him, a chill racing down his spine at her words and the water around his naked body. "That's right, sweetheart, Daddy's got you."

If he did his job right, she'd come harder than she'd ever come in her whole damn life and that was his goal. He had to find that good balance between kindness and sweet torture, right on the verge of angering her and right at the point he'd win her respect, and then he'd worry about what came next, _next._ He's a man, not a saint, after all, and he wants to get her off and please her and then fuck her hard into his mattress and come in her and think about marking her and leaving himself behind in that sweet, little pussy.

"Come on my face, sweetheart," he murmured, looking up across her body to her face, her eyes closed, his fingertips dragging from beneath her swollen, tilted breasts all the way to the apex of her nipples over and over slowly, a gently pinch at the top with every repitition, her back arching under his touch as he fucked her deep and slow with three thick fingers before lowering his lips to her clit again, and in no time flat she caught his ears with her thighs, squeezing him into the little wonderland of her cunt as she shook with a vibration that filled his mouth with her aroma and his face with a pride only granted a man who can make his woman truly come hard.

He hadn't lifted his head yet when he heard Rose's voice, _"Gun,"_ almost panicked.

 _Shit,_ he thought, _did I do something wrong?_

He raised his head to see Rose sitting up, a forearm draped across her breasts protectively. "We have company."

Gun followed her line of sight and saw 4 Jersey cows nearby, wandering as they munched grass lazily, no bell around their necks having been loud enough to distract himself and Rose from their activities before now, apparently.

Gun jumped out of the water, shielding his junk as he passed Rose's face, the proximity not a problem for him but, his attention needed elsewhere for now, and he shooed them off his property, hollering _"git! git!,"_  herding them out of the yard and back towards their acerage, his neighbor's goddamn cattle always meandering over at unhelpful times to be a nuisance.

He walked back to Rose who was still naked, thankfully, still seated on the creek bank laughing, watching him return. He dropped his hands from over his groin and strutted towards her, his heart rate still elevated from the chase but, for a different reason as he took in her pink cheeks and happy giggle.

Gun scooped up the quilt and moved to wrap it around Rose's shoulders, offering her a hand to stand, kissing her with his hands around her, pulling her and her blanket close, feeling her chilled skin from the creek and excitement flood him at the same time. He moved to grab the clothes off the ground and Rose halted his movements, telling him instead, "leave them" before tugging his hand to lead them back to the house.

"Yes, ma'am," he grinned at her as she gave him a playful look and he marched back to the house with her happily obedient.

 

 

********

 

 

"Was that okay?" he asked, coming up behind Rose, his hands at her shoulders as he followed her into the little house, pulling the back door closed behind them.

"No," she said, reaching the bedroom, still facing away, dropping the quilt from around her, Gun letting his hands wander down over her collarbones and past her chest, both hands coming to pinch and tease her breasts as she gasped lightly in front of him, facing the blue sky outside the window of his bedroom, "it was better than okay. It was so, so good."

She rolled her head backward onto his shoulder as he stood behind her, access to her body granted and he took full goddamn advantage, letting his hands wander greedily before telling her, "turn around, woman, I want to see you," thrilled and full-on harder than marble wrapped in velvet when she turned to face him and reached up to kiss his mouth.

After a minute she broke the kiss, backed up til her knees hit the bed and scooted back onto it, holding his gaze, Gun sending a silent prayer to the heavens, unsure about addressing God directly in a moment like this, technically fornicating but, feeling inspired to show gratitude to whatever deity had sent this treat to him all the same, and he stalked towards her like a lion setting eyes on a full goddamn meal.

"Come fuck me," she taunted, music to Gun's ears, "I want you."

He took one last moment to look at the ceiling to send a thank you to the clouds, murmured an affirmation of "mm hmm," and entered her tight pussy raw, no condom thank the Maker of heaven and Earth, that conversation handled delicately already in preparation for this moment, this earth-shattering, life-altering, mind-bending moment of relief, and he kissed her lips as he made her take it all, all his hard length, all his pummelling, all his energy, all his cum, he made her take it all as she murmured "yes, Daddy, yes," and he told her "take it, my good little girl. Yeah, that's fuckin' right, you're gonna take it, aren't you?" until he finished and filled her tight sweet spot with everything he had, just spilled right into her, made sure she took every last bit and watched her face as she luxuriated in it after he came back down.

"God _damn,_ woman," he murmured, rolling off her, "that's as good as it fuckin' gets, right there," he told her with praise.

Rose rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up to his side and he caught his breath, looking at her and pushing hair behind her ear, her ponytail a loose, lopsided mess of delirious happiness on her head.

"Gun Scott, do you always sleep on floral sheets?" she asked, amused, pointing to the flower-printed linens they laid on.

He grinned at her. "Thought you might like that," he told her, "bought 'em special. I may have been a little bit excited," he said with a smile, relieved to have all his cards on the table, his release unlocking the last vestiges of moderation and will to keep anything from her, preserve any leftover dignity.

"I swear, you are the cutest man on the planet," she said, leaning over to kiss him.

Gun pulled her close and felt his chest inflate with joy as his heart rate dropped back into the 80's, his pulse and his dick sated and content, his woman close and his hopes met and his fears subsided and his monsters quieted and for the first time since he'd come back from overseas, Gun Scott had the distinct feeling he was home.

 

He must have heard that thought roll through his mind a dozen times before he slept sometime around 11 that night, **_home,_** Rose tucked perfectly into the hollow his body curved around her sweet frame, her black braid curled around his head on the pillow beneath him, a silken cascade of his precious flower, his Rose in his bed with him, her rosemary pot roast and mashed potatoes in his belly, the playlist he'd put together and played on his portable speaker system still repeating along with it in his brain as sleep carried him off, the romantic his daddy had always been having rubbed off on ol' Gun Scott after all, old love songs crooning alongside their evening.

She'd been on her knees, she's swallowed his cum while he sat on his couch and dinner baked in the oven, the music Rose had worked to keeping time with her efforts both in the kitchen and while she was on her knees, and he'd never heard truer words than when Old Blue Eyes himself sang,

 

 _Fly me to the moon_  
_Let me play among the stars_  
_Let me see what spring is like_  
_On a-Jupiter and Mars_

 _In other words: please, be true_  
_In other words: I love you_

 

 _If I didn't know better, I'd say I already do,_ he'd thought, the lyrics rolling around in his head as he took her from behind, never more thankful to have her ass on display than now, sure he'd need to get her from behind as many times as she'd let him from here on out, fairly certain this was a view he'd never get tired of.

He was home and somehow, corny as all get-out though it would have been to have said it out loud, especially since he was fairly sure Rose was already asleep in his arms, right like he wanted her to be, he thought perhaps the moon was a little closer to his window tonight, a little more visible, a little more friendly.

Gun Scott had a smile on his face as he fell asleep, his home quiet and his moon close and his bed fitted with floral sheets and a Rose atop them in his arms.

 

********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the 5 chapters I had planned for Rogun. 
> 
> Y'all good? Or you want more? 
> 
> xo


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